"You poor child!" Prudence took Ruth's hands in her own. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. These interests her world promptly, through the agency of schoolmistresses, older school-mates, her aunt, and a number of other responsible and authoritative people, assured her she must on no account think about. I saw him last night at Jonathan Wild's, after my escape from the New Prison. “How can you know?” “I think—perhaps I am rather a cold-blooded person.
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